Suicide goat
Off in the car again tonight, then, and once again I encountered the mysterious suicide goat.
Let me explain: shortly after the clocks went back, I was on my way down the windy road that leads to the bridge that goes over the lough (keep up, people), and noticed something in the hedge. Humph, I thought to myself, some people are such bloody knackers chucking their rubbish bags in the hedge.
Anyhoo, thinking no more about it, I picked up the smalls, and we were happily pootling back up the windy road, chatting aimlessly, when the ‘rubbish bag’ had parked itself in the middle of the road, and what’s more, grown an impressive set of horns and a steely glare. It stood, and it glared. In the middle of the road. The noise in the car as I slammed on the anchors, went something like this:
WHOOOOOOOAAAAAAHHHHHHHH….SSSHHHHHHHHIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT!
Juddering to a halt, and gathering our wits about us, we found ourselves eyeball to bumper with a very depressed looking goat. He’s a big lad, too, with those huge great horns that look like… well, a massive pair of horns – you know those yokes that kind of curl backwards like those creatures in Star Wars?
‘Holy crap’, said #1
‘Indeed ‘, said I, too shocked to do the whole Mother thing about his filthy mouth.
And there we sat. He stared at us, and we stared back – mouths open. We probably looked like some kind of small operatic trio with the sound turned off. Occasionally, he sighed, but generally, he just stood and looked miserable. I felt quite sorry for him.
‘What shall we do?’, asked #2, realising within the nick of time that it probably wasn’t a good idea to be sitting in the pitch black, roughly in the middle of an unlit, windy country lane in a big 4×4 having a stand off with a big, pissed-off goat.
‘We’ll go round him’, said I, sounding much more confident than I actually was. And so we did. Slowly, and not breaking eye contact. He regarded our progress with disinterest, but wasn’t at all intimidated. And he was still standing miserably in the road as we drove off.
‘Well that was weird’, said #1.
And that was that. Our first encounter with the suicide goat. Obviously he hasn’t been very successful in his mission as he’s often there, standing limply in the middle of the road, making innocent motorists screech to a halt. I’m wise to him now, though, and as I round that particular bend I’m already looking out for him. Sometimes he’s standing aimlessly on the grass verge, and sometimes he’s smack bang in the middle of the road.
I’ve vowed that from now on, I’ll keep my camera in the car so that I can take a picture of him for you. That’s if someone doesn’t put him out of his misery before then. I wonder if therapy would help…
31 Responses to “Suicide goat”
Leave a Reply
Rach: I know. Freaky buggers. Yes, maybe that’s it. The farmer had to let him go. Goat’s the first thing people give up in a recession
Why don’t you put him in the car and bring him home to play with Bert??
Oh and yes. I’m still working on the pigs and chickens, but goats could work….
Poor old fellow. He needs rehabilitation, not judgement. Shame on you, EM. A little counselling might have done wonders! LOL!
We have bullocks in the field across from the house. It’s an ancient field (still bears the traces of ridge and furrow farming) and the hedges are ancient too. Every so often we see one or two of them wandering along the road. So far, no accidents, but I fear for them – AND the cars that hit them.
Jay: Too right, could be very messy. I hit a sheep once. Killed it, sadly, but it did run straight out from a hedge in front of me. And no, I didn’t take it home
Alg: Ah, the ol’ family Alzheimers rearing its ugly head already? Hee hee x
By the way, feck ya Missus. I’ve been going around all day singing ‘Suicide Goat’ in the tune of INXS ‘Suicide Blonde’…
“She’s gonna make me… a Suicide Goat – YEAH!!”
Sandra: I know. I start conversations with ‘c’mere’ as well. Heh. x
Jen: Yeh thanks, and I’ve been singing it ever since you texted me!!
“What are you doing, Truman?”
“Oh, I’m just pootling around.”
“…”
But back to goats. Look at their winsome little faces! Behold their perfectly virtuous expressions, as if they haven’t tried to nibble on your clothing or don’t bleat loudly at the drop of a hat or act very pushy if you don’t have something for them to eat! The goat you met simply took Pushy to the extreme. That’s his road and he’s wanting his toll of apple slices first.
Mind yourself now.
HQ: Welcome, my darling! (gosh, I’m not worthy!). Pull up a pink chaise. Good point. I’ll be wary, I promise x
Sarah: He is, isn’t he. Pesky, but somehow cute, AND depressing. All at the same time. He’s quite multitalented really!